MARINA GIPPS Poems

As the daughter of two foreigners, I begat no spawn.
Instead my love begat Judas, a boozehound of winter,
nephew of Ruth and Uncle Jimmy (who took his clothes off
in front of everyone one summer full of hard vodka lemonade
...

I know I don’t exist to you.
I will hand you a poem
And you will hand it
To your secret service.
...

My black pen was running red ink
I bought firecrackers from soldiers
My bank had closed in my sleep
...

All day I hammer at wooden shoes
to find out what's beneath.
I am ready to explode.
Here is a shoe no one has worn-
...

In only one place for a dollar,
the corners tire, your wise friend says.
Everywhere is where you'll
be, stay, play in L.A.
...

Nothing is more accessible than a poem.
Me and the lonely line that needs another.
Our quiet contemplation of the world without us
under a dim lamplight at dusk,
...

On a cold day

It lays warm
...

In the sad hum of one harmonica,

I can never get so low
where dogs go blind
...

My one friend playing
games with me
of monopoly. I resented
the money
...

Beautiful women with fleshy skin that rolls
like marbles in some man's mouth. Who'd ever
guess that the immaculate marble of a museum
filled with the steps of uncontrollable children
...